


violin pond

by velavelavela



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Folklore, M/M, Norwegian Mythology & Folklore, Violins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 18:49:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20457770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velavelavela/pseuds/velavelavela
Summary: skwisgaar is a näkken a-la scandinavian folklore. toki is not! very short, very fun.





	violin pond

The pitch of the water is smooth as a glass jar. The moon seems to featherfloat down to the surface, two meeting each other in a soft kiss, lips craters where the man would normally hide.

_He_ sits, cross-legged on a rock, leaning to the side with his sharp cheek pressed into his palm, face darkened and head framed by the halo of light. It’s like this— he sits, he holds vigil, he watches the eddies of ice twist and dip until it’s not like this and a lantern shines small as a firefly across the pond and he peels from the rock and slides into the water like a cold lily pad, takes his violin to complete his two-souled orchestra, plays it swiftly, plays it accurately, plays it with nothing but eyes piercing, half-lidded, watching the figure approach.

“Ah,” he murmurs.

A young man.

“Ah,” he murmurs again, perhaps not exactly in the same tone. His melody is haunting, as if it isn’t a melody. It isn’t a melody.

“Näkken?” the young man calls out, “I has brännvin—” a cough.

Ha. Tsk. Ha! Perhaps. Ha…! No.

He drops his arm limply, the violin disappearing beneath the water. A drink tonight, maybe. Ha! He lowers himself until only his eyes and the roots of his white-blond hair are visible above the water, rippling a bit before he begins to glide, swan-like towards the shore.

“You wants to learns from me.”

“Yes.”

There’s a gentle, soft splash as the alcohol flask hits the surface before coming up to bob delicately. The näkken is now by the bank, rising his torso out of the water. The other man is lanky, thin, clutching another violin in both trembling hands. His breath shows like cigarette smoke with each exhale.

The näkken takes the flash, a sip, and one last look at the man.

“Nope.”

And sinks down with the brännvin, disappearing completely from sight.

**Author's Note:**

> tysm. i really like skwisgaar skwigelf taller than a tree


End file.
